Friday, November 14

Osmosis between 3,000 miles...

So it's no surprise that any post-college military training is stressful. Whether you're crunching numbers, yelling at people, or overall losing sleep, the Navy has a way of making you feel not-so-happy inside.

With that said, I can't believe how much that crap has rubbed off on me...and I'm not even in the same time zone!

Wook's in his last week of flying for Intermediate, and good golly...could he be any more irritated/under pressure/overall not his usual wookie self? I feel bad as there's nothing I can do, whether I was there or here. He just has to hunker down and get through this week to make things better. Minus getting the day off for Vet's Day, he's been flying really stressful rounds this week in his efforts of getting through this last week. They really weren't kidding, this stuff isn't fun.

But what I don't understand, is how my blood pressure has risen in the past couple days knowing wook has to bring it (*black girl snap). I can't help but feel bad for him. I mean, yes, he chose the Navy. But he didn't choose Air, he wanted SWO. Then he didn't want carrier, he wanted P-3s. So, pretty much, he's gotten everything he didn't want. So on his end of the shtick, it's pretty crappy.

This week is the last week in Intermediate before they graduate him and push him onto his future for the Navy. There's jets and E-2s. So 50/50 as I see it. This is when my stomach ends up in knots. What will he get? Will he even like it? It's hard from the other side of the country to have a serious talk with him about whether he's going to implode from hating life if he gets something he didn't want. And always, my mind races to, "when can I see him again?" There are a few possibilities out there, but like always...I never get to be the one that chooses. But I always keep in mind, who lives there, and what's there to visit?

The journey this year has been a long, interesting one. Earlier on in our separation, his schooling wasn't as intense and so we had more time for each other (webcam sessions, emails, phone calls, etc.). Now, I can barely get a 14 minute conversation out of him before he needs to get back to calculating charts. It sucks for both him and me. I love yacking on the phone. But under these high-stress games, talking to me is the last thing he wants/needs to do. Pity party! Lol, not really. Thankfully he makes up for it by calling me on the weekends during his down time. Like when he and another guy stumbled upon a girl, passed out, in a Port-a-Poddy, at the Floribama. He had to call me to inform me of his findings. Too cute. And he was the DD so he wasn't smashed either. It was just a cute conversation, the one that spurred from the origin of the call...not the actual passed out girl.

So I'm hoping tonight he can thoroughly relax with a glass of Scotch and I can congratulate him on a very grueling week of training. I know I need a drink just to feel for him. Who knows, he may get really bad tonight. He deserves it, lol. I just know my nerves won't really settle until he graduates this phase and I hear what his next moves are. Maybe they'll be opening a base in Oregon. Down south. Near Medford. :)

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meet me, mrs. wookie

who is mrs wookie?

he's earned ALL CAPS ORDERS back to the great State for Lovers, and I've followed a couple months later. We spent a wonderful 3-plus years along the California coastline expanding our wine collection, expanding our friends, and deepening our family.

he wrapped up sea duty needs with an extended deployment aboard the USS Boat Food Sucks, but now we're prepping for the next best thing in the Navy: shore duty.

once a snarky milblogger, but now a thought-provoking feminist pain in the ass, let's pour a glass of wine and talk about the real issues - like rain water collection in a new home.

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non-official legalese

Blahdy blah…this is all my opinion, powered by good and bad days with the Navy, and the adverse effects on my vodka supply. While we love paychecks courtesy of Uncle Sam, he by-no-way cares whether it causes grey hair, cirrhosis, or panic attacks…blah blah…